Love Will Cage You
by Fallen-Gabriel
Summary: Jill Valentine meets the head of the BSAA, while struggling with what happened to her, the past is steadily uncovered…


Love Will Cage You

Chapter 1 – Forgotten

Jill Valentine had been around a lot of men in her lifetime. A lot. Being in the BSAA meant she couldn't walk down the hallway without spotting some behemoth. Besides the dimly lit rooms and hallways, the orange pastel carpets, or the array of grey charcoal walls, the place was a fountain of body builders. Each and every single one of which she knew she had probably mentally kicked in the balls, broken the noses of, and knocked the legs out from under for wolf whistling at her, as she walked down said dimly lit hallway.

So, when she said **she** was taken aback by the head of the BSAA, she meant it. He was taller Wesker – she still shuddered at the memory of him – and definitely Chris. He must have been around six foot five. Furthermore, he had long black hair…As in, almost down to his butt. She had to admit, she was a little jealous. It wasn't exactly professional to have that kind of hair when you were fighting through a horde of mutated monsters or zombies… She blinked.

_Woah…_

His back was turned to her, his hands in his pockets; the room they stood in painted dark brown with a warm vanilla colored carpet. The lighting was also low, matching the serene room, and she glanced around to take in everything. There was a tribal shield on the right wall, with spears around it in an 'x', and on the left wall there were three pictures – done in a triangle – of Native American men…

The desk the Director stood behind was wide and made of oak, sanded with a dark finish and office supplies strewn across its surface. She winced at the rather large stack of papers that were in the top right corner, at least a foot high…

_I know whose job I don't want. No thank you, I'll just stick to shooting B. …_

"Are you done analyzing me, Ms. Valentine?" The deep baritone with a raspy edge made her jump.

"I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean to –"

He turned, holding up a dark skinned hand to pacify her. "It's quite alright. It's nice to know that you're keen, otherwise, what is the government paying us for?" Jill had to reign in her shock. He had the bluest eyes she had ever seen.

They almost seemed to glow and pop out of his head. She was instantly whisked away on a memory, of her as a little girl, watching out her window as a bolt of lightning struck the ground and rattled the earth. She had held onto the window sill and gripped it so hard her knuckles had hurt. For the rest of the evening she'd camped out on the loveseat to try and see it again. Now…Now she felt like she was staring into that same bolt of lightning.

His face was chiseled, with high cheek bones, and a very strong jaw. There was a scar too, running from the top right of his forehead to end on his left cheekbone. Another started in the middle of his left cheek to run down along the curve of his firm jaw. The midnight locks ran straight too, coming over his broad shoulders to rest on a large chest.

The suit he wore was as dark as his hair, a pearl white shirt under that, and a silver tie. But he was also…gaunt. His eyes looked a little sunken in with either fatigue or lack of sleep, and his cheeks looked a little hollow. He also had light crow's feet along the edges of his eyes.

_I'm betting he's at least forty-five…Maybe a little younger?_

He was no doubt well built under his suit but…She couldn't put her finger on it. There was this weird sense of leanness to him, like he could be buffer, but, wasn't.

She shifted a little, knowing she should have dressed better than the black t-shirt, work out shorts, and sneakers she was wearing. Maybe she could have done something with her hair?

"Uh, right sir. Still, it's just…No one's ever –"

"Seen me before?" He gave a rather sad smile, and Jill slowly nodded. "Don't stand on ceremony for me." He gestured to the chair in front of his rather large desk. As she sat, she noticed there was a few letters on the oaken surface, which looked to be scratched in, hidden under a manila folder… She silently searched for a knife, her battle senses heightening out of habit, but found none. Perhaps he was keeping it in one of his drawers? But wait, why would he mark on his desk to begin with? Her eyes narrowed.

'_Ker' and 'sou'? What is that?_

Status was everything, especially in a military-oriented organization like the BSAA. Marks like those, chiseled by someone's hand into a desk, especially that of a higher up, were considered graffiti. Defacement. But the Director shifted, moving a few papers around to conceal them… Jill's brow furrowed.

_Is he…hiding something?_

She couldn't imagine anyone intimidating this man, let alone carving into his desk. She mentally slapped herself. Plenty of men had P.T.S.D, and from the scars on his face he might have it. I mean, it was obvious he was no stranger to battle. Maybe it was his way of coping? The letters could spell dead comrade's names. It was **not** her place to pry.

_I can't believe I'm analyzing him like this…Stop it Jill. Just talk to him. That's what you came in here for._

But she knew, she just **knew**, as soon as she left the room she was going to get an earful from Chris, Jenkins, probably Rebecca, and maybe Keith if he'd reported in his wing of the BSAA in East Africa. They'd want every detail. And she was giving them nothing. She'd already decided that what was going to happen in this room was going to **stay** in this room. It was not her job to talk to the Director and let twenty other people know about it. That was how rumors were started.

_Oh come on, you already know twenty people are talking about __**this**__._

It was no small secret that no one had seen him before, and the fact that he'd come all the way from wherever he was, just to talk to her, was making the whole global department go nuts. They were a feeding frenzy of vicious whispers and lies. No doubt everyone was going to start talking about how she was sleeping with him or something. That was how these things started. Of course, she supposed she should count herself lucky. At least this wasn't S.T.A.R.S, where the Raccoon City Police Department was **convinced** she did something to get put on the special tactics team.

She supposed with such a big organization there was no end to the gossip column, and thus, if she simply didn't talk about what happened in here, then it would all die down. And everyone could go back to talking about how Leon S. Kennedy was more than likely to break up some marriage before the week was out – again, or something like that. And as far as she knew, no, Leon had only broken up one marriage by accident…

"You can call me 'Sen'." Jill blinked.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"My name…You can call me Sen."

"Oh…" She was pretty sure that wasn't his real name. And if it was – or even just an abbreviation – then things just took a turn for the weird. "Uhm, thank you sir – I mean, Sen…" He nodded, seeming to think that was enough, and opened up a folder.

"Now, you must be wondering why you're here." He leaned forward, holding out a much larger folder to her. Jill tentatively reached forward, taking it from him, and frowned out how heavy it was. 'Top Secret' stared back at her from the surface, stamped in that boring red ink, and she opened it. Because the room was so dimly lit, it took her eyes a moment to adjust, and her jaw clenched.

"This is my report…The one I did after returning from Wesker's capture." The grueling seven months of 'recuperation' had driven her virtually more insane than the biochemist had.

She didn't remember most of it; blank periods of time torn between consciousness, and the illusion of control. The psychiatrists tried everything, and after one particular episode of hypnosis where she'd nearly killed the doctor, and several other patients in the waiting room, they'd decided to try other means.

Eventually, she'd rejected all other forms of treatment and talked it out. Yeah, she'd been worried about the whole sexual assault thing – although she honestly didn't think Wesker had gone **that** far off the deep end. And she'd had to explain that whole line of thought and assure them she didn't have Stockholm syndrome for him... Okay, and there was that thing about her feeling bitter towards Chris for not allowing her to accompany him on the rest of the mission. Wesker betrayed her at the mansion too! Hell, he'd held her at gunpoint! Not to mention, the whole enslaving her, dying her hair (that was way down there on the list of things he'd done to her, but it still pissed her off), and making her fight her friends…

Jill hadn't felt like herself even after that… The therapy had done little to nothing for her. Oddly enough, after seven months she'd been called in to do a mission by the man sitting across from her. Now, three months after that and several objectives complete under her belt, she was starting to feel…Normal again.

Apparently kicking in zombie heads, fighting off crazy biochemists, slamming doors open, firing a magnum, and feeling the kick of a machine gun was her therapy. And it occurred to her that she'd missed it all. She'd missed the stupid jokes some of her partners came up with, while fighting strange B. , that near death thrill when you find an herb, or the weight of carrying a rocket launcher over your shoulder before taking down a 'boss', as the new recruits called them (giant monsters that had practically no weaknesses).

"Yes, it occurs to me that it's more a bunch of psychologists picking at your brain, and medical officers examining you, than an actual report done **by** you." He leaned back a bit, his elbows still resting on the desk. "I'd like you to actually file something in there, anything you can remember." Jill frowned, but slowly nodded.

"Of course…Sen. I'll get this done right away…" She folded it back in her lap, sitting it against her thighs before returning her gaze to him. "Was there anything else?"

"Yes actually…I wanted to ask how you're…**feeling**." Her brow furrowed. "With the missions and all. Your partners say you're doing just fine, that you're prowess on the field as of late matches what they'd expect from the great 'Jill Valentine'." She smiled, shaking her head.

"I feel fine sir, better than I have in awhile actually." He nodded.

"Glad to hear it. I figured that was what you needed." Jill stared at him now, a sort of understanding in those bright azure orbs. "I used to be a mercenary." He murmured, and she blinked in surprise at the confession. "Usually, when I was supposed to 'get back in the saddle again', a mission helped more than the actual doctors." Sen rubbed his hands together, flexing them, and she couldn't help but notice the scars that painted the backs of them. There looked to be a burn mark around his left wrist, some cuts along his knuckles…

"Yes sir, thank you. It's helped a lot…Being around comrades." The air seemed to dissolve, the tension seeping from her form. Someone understood…Lucky for her it was a higher up. He stood, the chair creaking under him, and she did quickly as well.

"I was going to ask if you wanted some tea…" He chuckled, motioning to the small cabinet in the corner, with a machine on top of it, and she shook her head quickly, face warming.

_That was embarrassing…_

"No sir, sorry…Force of habit." He shook his head, approaching the machine.

"You can go now, that's all I needed to speak to you about. Unless, you'd like to keep talking?" He offered, pouring himself a cup, the heavenly aroma of spices and herbs wafting through the air. It smelled good, but protocol and paper work nagged at the back of her mind.

"Sorry sir, but I really should get to work…" Sen nodded once more in understanding, taking a sip of his drink, and she crossed the room quickly to the door. With a whoosh and a bout of cool air she was in the hallway again, closing the mahogany door, and she inhaled sharply.

"Jill!" She should have known…

"Hey Chris." She turned to him, his large form just having rounded the corner. "You hit the gym again…?" Her voice trailed off when she saw his bulging forearms and the towel draped over his shoulders. When they were in S.T.A.R.S together, he'd been so young, and kind of built but leaner. Since then, he'd started gaining more muscle, trying to boost himself, as if he thought he could have beat Wesker if he'd just gotten strong enough. She had to admit, it was a little unattractive. She kind of missed the scrawny guy.

"Yeah, figured I'd get a little more training in before I went home." He eyed the door beside her, his gaze slowly returning to her. "So, how was…he?" Her brow rose. The Director in the BSAA was treated more like the boogeyman, or a ghost than an actual person. Now that she'd met him she could honestly say that he existed.

"He was spooky…" She whispered, putting the folder under her arm, and waving her fingers at him. He frowned, brow furrowing, and leaned away from her.

"Come on, I'm being serious." Jill snorted.

"That's a first." While he **was** Mr. Serious on a mission, he was anything but when off duty. Not easily deterred, he pressed on.

"I won't tell anybody if that's what you're worried about." He also knew her too well. "And almost everybody has gone home, so no one will hear you." Chris also glanced at the folder under her arm, and she knew he'd probably ask about that **after** she told him about The Director.

"He's a huge Native American with the bluest damn eyes I've ever seen. He drinks tea and has really long hair, like, down to his butt." She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder to motion to her own rear end. Chris frowned. Then he realized she was serious when she gave him a dead pan look.

"How huge?"

_He would ask that…_

"Taller than Wesker, like, six-foot-five tall." His eyes widened.

"Woah…"

"That's exactly what I thought."

"And the folder?" They'd started walking together, making their way to the locker room, and Jill sighed.

"It's the report I did, or, mostly the doctors when I got back…" She took a deep breath to steady herself. "He wants me to write something, anything I can remember to go on record."

Chris looked her over, concern evident in his eyes. "Are you sure you want to do that?" Jill shook her head.

"He wants me to fill it out, I mean, he got me back on missions, and that's helped more than the therapy. I'll just…I'll write down what I remember." Her voice betraying how lost she felt.

"What **do** you remember?" His voice had taken an edge, one that she immediately identified as something of a mixture between guilt, bitter anger, and sorrow. She knew he was trying to keep his cool, that somewhere deep inside he was kicking himself, because he had no right to sound that way.

"Nothing much…" It wasn't a lie, not a complete one anyway…

J-C

_August 17__th__, 1963_

The sun shone high, sprawling across the country side, only to be shrouded by a cloud as it sailed across the blue span of the sky. The trees quaked as a cool summer breeze dashed by, the bony wood of their highest branches scraping across one another. A mansion that was neither debilitated nor new sat in the middle of a wide expanse of land, the bitter salt of the sea wafting about it. Its high walls were covered in ivy, the windows eclipsed by budding roses, and the mortar cracking.

A young girl stood before the great structure, dwarfed by the towering mahogany doors of its entrance, and her lips pursed. "Felicia!" Her head whipped around, sending her reddish-blonde hair abound her face and shoulders. "Felicia!" The man's voice sounded impatient and exasperated as he appeared around a wide hedge. "Girl, I told you not to go wandering off." He groused as he approached with quick and firm strides.

"I'm sorry, I just…Is this where we're all going to be living?"

He sighed, a slight scowl on his features. "Yes, yes, this used to be the childhood home of a dear friend of mine." He spat the word 'friend' though, as if it left a bad taste in his mouth, and the girl's brow furrowed.

_He must not be a very good friend…_

"Felicia, oh, there you are!" A woman cried, fast approaching, and went down to her knee before her. She stroked her cheeks and kissed her forehead. "I thought we told you to stay with the group!"

"Yes, you're going to have trouble with this one, I think…" The man grumbled, more to himself than the two females. The girl kept her scowl at bay, instead, basking in the affection Heather – her 'nurse maid' gave her. She was a rather stout woman, with curly red locks, and eyes cut from emerald. Her cheeks were a ruddy red and she spoke with a strong Manchester accent. Not only that, but she always wore grey dresses with a pressed, frilly aprons. She was not like Felicia, with her thin form, and long lanky legs.

Spencer – the grouchy man – described her as 'gangly' and 'only pretty about the face'. She didn't like him. It wasn't so much his comments or his tone, no, her uncle was just like him, but he still managed to be a good man. Rather snippy and blunt but a nice man. This man was not nice at all. He was rough and completely rigid. His hair was a 'dying blonde' she liked to think. It was grey at the sides, becoming silver at the crown of his head, and bright gold at the top.

"Well, bring the others in; they need to be inside before tonight…" He snapped, shoving his hands into the silken pockets of his charcoal suit. With a firm twist of his lanky form, he had turned on his heel, and made his way back through the maze of hedges to leave.

"I don't like him…" Felicia whispered to Heather, and the woman sighed.

"He is a bit…Stern, but I'm assured he's got a purpose for everything he does. Smart men like him often do. Now, come along, we need to get your siblings and your belongings inside!" The young girl sighed, trailing after her to make their way back out. By the time they reached the front gate, Spencer was already long gone, and her 'siblings' were becoming rowdy.

"Give it back Alex!" William cried, his bright blonde hair catching the mid-afternoon sun, and topaz eyes narrowed. For a five year old, he already knew three languages – mostly fluent – and arithmetic. Unfortunately, he let the fact that he was extremely intelligent go to his head. His whining, shrill voice made Felicia wince. What a brat.

Alex, on the other hand, had crimson red locks and bright blue eyes. He knew six languages, geometry, and the basics of chemistry. And when she meant 'basics', she meant he knew all the elements of the periodic table, make tonics, and knew most indigenous fauna to several continents about the world. He currently was holding William off with one hand, and holding a stuffed toy in the other, far from the other boy's reach.

Being the oldest of her new found siblings, she marched over and snatched it from Alex's hand. He turned on her, his brilliant sky blue eyes narrowed dangerously. Rolling her own eyes, she tossed it back to William, who hugged the tiger tightly, and stuck his tongue out at the older boy. He ran off with it, waving it in front of Hiro, who glared at him over the top of his book.

"He'll never stop being a child if you keep spoiling him." Alex hissed, crossing his arms, and appearing to be much older than seven.

"We **are** children, don't forget that." She snapped back, tapping her foot, and clenching her fists at her sides.

"You might be." He snatched up his dark green duffle bag, which matched his turtle neck. His jeans were immaculate like the rest of him, the sneakers he had on clean. Felicia watched him slink away out of the corner of his eye.

"He's so cool…" She rolled her eyes, hearing Irma behind her, and turned to see the brunette batting her lashes at the retreating boy's form, even as he rounded the hedge.

"Oh please…" She supposed she shouldn't be surprised that Irma was so attracted to Alex. She was constantly flirting with him, and although she was smart – they all were – she was also extremely vain. She kept boasting about how they were the perfect match because he was so handsome, strong, and…ugh. Felicia shuddered. All nonsense that the boy completely tuned out; she didn't blame him.

Irma turned a nasty glare on her, the green of her eyes rivaling Heather's emerald pair, but hers were different. There was a line of gold around the inner iris, making them look harsh in comparison to their nurse maid. "Who are you to get in the way of what's meant to be? Stupid commoner…" She flounced off in her white mini skirt and black t-shirt, all those stupid wrist bands strewn up her arms.

_Who lets a six-year-old dress like that?_

Felicia thought grimly, her faded, ripped jeans barely hugging her waist. She grabbed her navy blue backpack and beige suitcase – much to the driver's dismay – and made her way inside. So what if her clothes were hand-me-downs? That just made them more homely. At least her family had cared about her! She fingered one of the grease stains on her brother's cotton jacket, smiling, and shaking her head.

_I hope he hasn't killed himself by gorging on those stupid chili cheese fries yet…_

Hiro – a month younger than Alex – came up beside her. He wore a white button up shirt, slacks, and white sneakers. His skin was dark to contrast, with black hair, and chocolate colored irises. "You're…Felicia, right?" He spoke in German, as if testing her, and she laughed.

"Yeah, what of it?" He nodded, as if deeming her worthy – stupid stuck up prat.

"You're the oldest out of all of us." He had switched to French.

"So? You think I should get an award or something?" She answered, her eyes narrowing, watching him out of the corner of her vision. If living in downtown New York had taught her anything, it was that you didn't show your hand before the call.

"No, just making sure I've got the competition all checked out." He smirked, jumping to Russian.

"You know what comrade," she challenged, matching his pace. "You haven't seen competition." His eyes widened, blinking at her, and she smirked, walking away. "Figured everybody knew **Latin**!" She called, ending it in English, stepping inside the dimly lit entrance hall…

F-H-W-A

The mansion was enormous, and it wasn't long till everybody was running around, claiming rooms for themselves. Felicia had waited downstairs for everything to sort itself out, reading a book in German by a philosopher, the paperback old and torn. She sighed after two hours, making her way up the broad stone steps to the second floor. She peered around a corner and couldn't help but chuckle as her siblings seemed to play musical chairs with the doors. Each one of them seemed to have a different color piece of chalk, even the really young ones going around and claiming rooms.

_I'd ask where they got that stuff, but I have a feeling It'd be pointless…_

She rolled her eyes and kept going. While most of them focused on the inner part of the castle, she explored the outer, finding an entire corridor with windows on one side, and rooms on the inner. She quickly strolled to the end and pulled the door open. A wide area with curtains everywhere, a four poster bed, and bookshelves greeted her. A grand marble fireplace sat far from the bed, on the opposite wall, and a suit of armor took up residence beside it.

"Looks like this is my room." She dropped her book bag on the floor and unzipped her suit case. She smirked, standing up, and tapped her fist on the armor. "Hey there, big guy, looks like we're going to be seeing each other a lot."

Filling the empty drawers sloppily with her clothes she threw the case into the closet and jumped on her bed. She extended her limbs, laughing to herself. "This is going to take some getting used to." Sure, she had a double bed at home, but she had to share that with her older brother and younger sister.

She could hear the others from even here, yelling and shouting about how they'd claimed and someone had sneaked their chosen rooms from them. "Spoiled cry babies…" She grumbled, listening to Heather through the stone walls as she tried to calm them down with a stern command.

Felicia curled up on her new bed, eyeing the fireplace on the farthest wall, and tried to imagine what she would do if something as silly as a dragon popped out. Would the suit of armor come to life and do battle with it? Of course it would, that's what knights did.

She imagined how the drake would spit fire, the smoky plumes of its flame curling towards the ceiling, and how the knight would raise his shield to fend off the heat. He'd smash his sword into a scaled flank, dodging right, and then left when it snapped out with razor sharp fangs and claws.

With crimson eyes alighted in fury, the dragon would swipe with its tail, blasting flame as it went, leaving a circle of fire. The knight would see no avenue of escape as Felicia marveled from the side lines, and in a last ditch effort he would slam the point of his shield into the floorboards. The hellish inferno would wrap around the iron, scalding and melting it away. Scrambling, the knight would undo his gauntlet before it fused with his skin, and raise his sword.

Nowhere else to hide, he'd charge nobly at the dragon, slashing and exchanging blow for blow. Marveling at her own imagination, Felicia wasn't sure how to end her little tale. Would the knight defeat the dragon and claim glory by ending its life? Or would the drake win? Of its own will the tale finished in her mind, pressing on.

The dragon's night black scales caught the flickering fire light, exhausted and with no flame left, the knight charged. The silver shine of his sword caught the drake's eyes, but in that last crucial moment, before the blade plunged into its beating, burning heart, the winged creature lashed about. It caught the dying embers of the fire with its finned tail, sending them sprawling through the air at the knight, and catching him off-guard.

The white hot coals caught the brave man's arm, causing him lasting pain, and great injury. He jumped back, his sword falling, but was too late to escape the drake's mighty tail. He flew back, his form knocking into the wood of Felicia's bed, and she jolted with a gasp. The dragon neared, the click of its claws over the hard wood keeping time with the pace of her heart. This was the end…She was sure of it.

But the dragon stopped, the crimson of its gaze cold and harsh. It flared up, mighty black wings spanning to the walls, scraping and scratching the stones with the talon tipped membranes. It crashed to the floor, staring the knight right in the eye, but he stared back, just as fearless as the moment he drew his sword.

The dragon whisked about, breaking down the door, and Felicia jumped off the foot of her bed, dashing after it. The knight made no move after her as she followed, the crash of glass sounding as the dragon smashed through a window, its wings opening to catch the wind. She gripped the mortar of the window, watching its ascent into the clouds, a roar of triumph echoing across the tree covered plains, all the way to the mountains.

"Felicia?" She turned her head, eyes widening on Heather, who stood at the end of the hallway, her hands clasped before her. "Are you alright? You just ran out of your room as if a demon were after you." The girl smiled.

"Not a demon…" She turned her eyes to the moon, the grey clouds filtering about her crescent face, as if trying to catch a glimpse... "A dragon…"

F-H

Felicia sat, wide eyed on some random chair in the middle of the library, and looked around helplessly.

_Where is Heather?!_

She was holding precariously onto her youngest sibling as he slept, his blonde head tucked under her chin, and thumb in his mouth. He was curled up right into her warmth, and was currently leaching her body heat. Felicia sighed. She sat at a long span of tables, the book she'd been reading half way finished before her.

Old lamps were spaced evenly along the tables, their green, glass shades reflecting the dark, polished surfaces. Shelves and shelves of books were all around her, no light from the outside world allowed in, all of it was electrical. There were ladders to go up to the top, but Heather had forbidden them to climb them, if they needed something above the fourth shelf they could get one of the rarely seen help to get it.

Everything smelled of dust, ink, old pages, and lemon wood polish. The whole place cast in orange light, some of the darker corners hiding books in darkness, one's whose spines you could barely read from that lack of light.

_They seriously need to up the wattage in some of these light bulbs…_

"What are you doing?" She jumped, causing the two-year-old in her lap to grunt, nuzzling into her, and she turned her head.

"Derek, you startled me!" The five-year-old dressed in jeans and a camo-strap shirt blinked up at her with his hazel irises. His messy brown hair was wild and un-kept about his ears, and she laughed a little, trying not to alert the small child on her lap, pushing his hair away to peer into those huge eyes. "I'm taking care of this kid till Heather gets back…"

"Oh…" He paused, brow furrowed. "What's his name?"

Felicia frowned. "Uh…I…I didn't ask." She laughed and Derek huffed.

"He's younger than me isn't he?" He poked the small child's back, causing him to fuss, and the girl slapped his hand away.

"Yeah, he's two, now leave him alone…Go read or something!" She whispered, rubbing his back, and Derek sighed.

"Fine…" He whined, wandering off, and Felicia breathed a sigh of relief. She peered down at her youngest sibling, his cute little face serene.

"I wonder why they picked a two-year-old…" She frowned.

"You and me both." A voice rang out, and she rolled her eyes, making sure she didn't jump. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of catching her off-guard.

"What do you want Alex?" She sighed.

"I wanted to meet him…" He gestured to the boy she held. Felicia frowned, raising a brow.

"Why?" She dragged the question out on her tongue, and the crimson haired boy sighed.

"No one else around here presents much of a challenge, I'm curious if he will…They did pick him rather young." He gestured to him, and her jaw dropped.

"He's two!"

"So?" Alex inquired in a bored fashion, still regarding the blond child wearily. "I don't need him usurping me."

"Alex, if you try to hurt him, I swear to god…"

"You'll what?" He snapped, eyes narrowed. "You're not as intelligent as me, Felicia, but neither are you stupid. You can't tell me that you believe all the bull that Spencer has been trying to feed us."

Her jaw clenched and she inhaled sharply, but slowly. "Look Mr. High and Mighty, I may not be as 'smart' as you, but I'm sure as hell a lot wiser than you are. So if you ask me, wisdom and experience beat out intelligence any day. And for your information, no, I haven't bought into this cock-and-bullshit about this just being some summer school for really smart kids. I mean, they gave us new names for Christ's sake! And in two weeks I haven't got a single letter from my folks or my brother. So yeah, this is total bullshit, and I may not have the greatest idea of what's going on, but I knew it's bad."

Her voice took a low edge, dangerous, and she only ever used it on bullies. But she had to do this, she didn't care if he was a year younger, because Alex had that same look in his eye for the kid in her lap. And if it was one thing she couldn't stand, it was bullying.

He seemed surprised by her language, even more so by her tone, but through it all he managed to smirk. "You're full of quite a few surprises Felicia, I'll enjoy unearthing all of them." He waved, hands folding behind his back as he exited the way he came – through the shadows.

"Creep…" She grumbled, when she was sure he was gone. She sighed, kicking her feet a little to try to get the feeling back in them, and gave a half-hearted glare to the boy in her lap. "If you make me miss dinner, I'm going to tickle you."

Two beautiful blue orbs opened half way, regarding her just as bored as Alex had, as if to say: 'so? You're not worth my time, now sit back and be quiet, I'm trying to nap'. And yes, you could fit all that into the one stare he gave her, she was pretty sure.

"Why you little…" She was about to tickle him anyway, but Heather – thank goodness! – appeared around the corner to save her. She hoisted the boy away from Felicia, making him grunt, and give a little kick. She slapped his small leg lightly, fixing him against her side, and he glared up at her. Felicia blinked and almost giggled.

_Glaring two-year-olds, this place just keeps getting weirder and weirder…_

"Come on, Felicia, we need to get supper ready." She nodded, jumping off the chair, and followed her out.

"Heather?" The stout woman looked over her shoulder at her briefly, as they navigated the maze of bookshelves.

"Hm?"

"What's his name?"

"Albert…Albert Wesker."

F-H-A

There you have it! Chapter 1 of Love Will Cage You! Stay tuned for more! :D


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